THE FINAL SHOWDOWN
by carps lorck
Summary: Three Deaths... One fate. A gripping and powerful epic following Bubbles' fate as she turns into a woman.
1. Fate's Cruel Hand

Note: This story co-written by gh0 |00l574r  
  
Note: All bad parts by gh0 |00l574r  
  
===  
  
Chapter 1:  
  
Fate's Cruel Hand.  
  
Bubbles awoke from her steely cold sleep, rubbed her innocent blue eyes and looked to her left, calling innocently to her beloved sister "Buttercup?" and to her right "Blossom??"... but they were nowhere to be seen. Bubbles jumped into the air and flew dramatically out into the hall beside the sisters' bedroom but they weren't there either! So she flew into every room in the house, tears streaming down her cheeks and her heart flailing with emotion at the chance that something may have happened to her beloved family. There was only one more room to check; the den. She buckled up all her strength and blasted through the door, hyper punching the professor, her creator, in the face killing him instantly. The crowds of expectant people gathering in the den waiting to shout "SURPRISE!" were all shocked to their cores at the lightning attack. Bubbles heart dropped and she fell into coma. Blossom and Buttercup flew to the professor's lifeless corpse and initiated their beggars' belief that there might still be hope for him yet. However there was not.  
  
Suddenly a fat man choked but no one noticed. Blossom turned from the professor and focused her attention on Bubbles, when there was a knock at the door. Everyone looked in shocked silence towards the door and heard very COMMUNIST breathing. Bubbles was woken. The knock was repeated and accompanied by EVIL wheezing and SINISTER muttering, but Bubbles in her naivety went to open it anyway amid shouts of "It's COLONEL COMMUNIST!" At least, she would've opened it if she had fingers. But she did not. It took the help of a grown-up, much like using scissors does. The door opened.  
  
SUDDENLY COLONEL COMMUNIST projected a thunderous roar and BUBBLES was catapulted backwards in the cartoon lines. That are wind. (The lines are wind). However, unperturbed, BUBBLES rushed forward and SHURYUKENED colonel communist, following immediately with a HADOKEN and then a PARALYSIS MAGIC MOON MINESTRONE LOVELOVE HEARTS spell, causing -7 DAMAGE to the battered colonel. Unfortunately, this flurry of attack was immediately countered with a VERY SILLY armpit noise and followed by the COLONEL turning on a SMALL ELECTRIC FAN and then dropping several used tissues in front of it. Fatalities were avoided.  
  
Despite this, the COLONEL (pronounced not as "kernal" but as "col on ol") suffered a completely unrelated stroke, and in his dying breaths announced to Bubbles that he had in fact left the Communist party but that Capitalism was definitely flawed.  
  
Bubbles was left to deal with the realisation that she had in fact contributed to two civilian deaths in one hectic, DIZZY teenage morning.  
  
Buttercup and Blossom, meanwhile, were now missing.  
  
Bubbles suddenly REALISED that her fate was sealed. SHE would spend the next 14 years in the STATE PEN for double murder. Her BROW felt heavy and a tear ELAPSED from her moist tear duct, as she FELL to the floor sobbing in regret. The COURTS would not see her side of the story, SHE would be found guilty of MURDER IN THE FIRST DEGREE. Her actions had probably CAUSED the fatal and terminal stroke which struck the poor defenceless colonel, FORMER communist. As she thought of the situation poetically SHE was also trying to reform herself from this terrible MURDER, as the colonel was trying to REFORM from the wonderful world of communism, she THEN FELT she DESERVED it. She did, however, make the most of her last few hours of freedom by shakin' her ass down at the local Townsville pimp bar and selling her body for cold hard drugs.  
  
More to come! 


	2. The Shattering of Dreams

Chapter 2: The Shattering of dreams.  
  
==  
  
"Bubbles... Bubbles."  
  
Ethereal voices danced around Bubble's unkempt head, echoing... echoing. Echoing. The light rain and slight breeze were together blowing the concealer off her face and revealing her sordid, SECRET acne. Lying on her back, she thought, nay, she was SURE that the stars were usually not so close.  
  
"Bubbles..."  
  
Dazed and confused and probably hungover, Bubbles looked upwards. Her back sensed that she was lying on rock, and her gaze fixed on the white, shimmering blur from which these rhythmic utterances resounded. Whatever stood over her, though smeared through her disorientated sight, was not human. Not human.  
  
"Bubbles..."  
  
Bubbles snapped upwards through her dizzying pain and, careful not to seem too unfriendly, lightly SMASHED the creature across the face with her Puff Crowbar. The white, dragon-like form of the being, which quite COPYRIGHT INFRINGINGLY resembled that of the LOVE dragon in the original Neverending Story, not the CRAPPY sequels that so shamelessly CAPITALISED upon it, recoiled in agony as a gruff roar of pain escaped it's furry, hair- covered throat.  
  
Bubbles, now floating once more despite her nausea, cried menacingly and impassionately at the dragon, "Where am I? Tell me, you indubiable beast!"  
  
The creature rubbed his face on a stone, his arms too short to reach his own face. Just like in the film.  
  
"Shut up or I'll get my dad on you," he threatened.  
  
"Your dad is so stupid he got HIT BY A STATIONARY OBJECT such as AN AUTOMOBILE, and subsequently DIED before you BURIED HIM ALIVE!" quipped Bubbles, cruelly.  
  
"That makes no sense."  
  
"Yes it does!"  
  
"No it doesn't."  
  
"Yes it does!"  
  
"No it doesn't," sighed the creature. "For you implied that my father was in fact alive during his burial and yet deceased beforehand due to a car accident. Now, my comprehensive knowledge of PSYHCOLOGY has taught me that this is not physically possible, and subsequently I call your BURIAL WHILST ALIVE comment a SILLY thing." The hairy beast glared with measured indignation, resigning himself to the role of argument stopper.  
  
Bubbles was dumbstruck. Feeling powerless to talk, she remained completely silent as the as the unnamed dragon both asked and answered the obvious question that most normal people would be wanting to ask by this point.  
  
"Where are we? Why, the land of DREAMS, of course."  
  
"Who are you?" asked Bubbles.  
  
"I am a Louve Dragoon," replied the monster, "and perhaps I can help you."  
  
Something just happened that night, between the two lonely souls. And it was not sex. They did not have sex. Rather, some kind of chemical reaction just occurred between them, and they found themselves talking, more and more deeply, until the first light of the morning. Except there WAS no morning in the Dreamworld. Bubbles relaxed, and saw the dragon as he was; a beast running away.  
  
"The society just got to me. It drove me out. Hollow, soulless dragons worshipping material goods, rejecting the old ways, devoid of all faith and belief and interested in a love only physical, never spiritual; running rampant all around me, were walling in me in, thier meaningless leisure activities and worthless pop-culture interests flushing me out, derisive, my morals and reservation, laughed at. Everything I had been taught to believe was empty to them; the young dragons had no interest in issues but of the flesh and of themselves. They shut me in; maybe I shut them out. But I had to go. I had to get out. I began to get thoughts of radicalism; and it was at that point I knew I must leave. I began to long only for solitude, for peace, for disturbance from none and disturbance to none. I left them all, one night, and I ran away."  
  
The dragoon stopped and paused. There was a wistful silence. "And what are you running away from?" he asked, his eyes curious.  
  
"The Police."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Nights were never longer anywhere than they were in the Dreamworld, and never more romantic. On that sorry stone cliff, the wind lapping gently at the face of the rock, the dragon's asparagus would occasionally grumble with his HUNGER, and Bubbles massaged his hernia. Sometimes ANGUS would join in the game. And below the starry, deep-blue night sky, an imposing mist swirled and cloaked the valley below them, distant and inviting like the faded horizon from which the lonely echos of far away animals would sound. Perhaps other outcasts, the creature would say. Bubbles knew it was the dragoon's single comfort, and that he too knew... that it was false.  
  
"Do you watch MTV?" asked Bubbles, the next night, as they settled down again to talk.  
  
"No. No I don't."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The leisure of the misguided. The television...," sighed the dragoon, "was once a new and awe-inspiring peice of technological equipment, you would marvel at the colours, you would cheer for the hero and you would fear at the villain; there we had a simple and powerful tool for moral education, for depiction of reality and journey into unreality. There was so much to be acheive, and to a large extent, we acheived it. Yet modern times bought modern taste, and a generation raised by the rules of the television and so unaffected by it's power; they wanted stronger words to shock them, stronger voilence, no longer a desire to see the best we could be, but the worst we could be, and each time a punch is shown on television, it is a step further into the void. A kiss becomes a lesbian kiss, a fight becomes a graphic killing, rape and torture and played-out sadism; these things no longer affect us anymore. We are used to it, the children are used to it, and the earlier they are exposed to it the further they will want to see it depicted themselves, for it is no longer a shock to see it for them either. They will see this voilence, this outward sexuality, and they will absorb it up, and yet we won't let them play on swings in the playground and we sue their teachers for daring to order them. And once these television boundaries are crossed - once these taboos are eradicated - there is no incentive to go back anymore. We won't go back. There will be further reality television; on-air conception will occur, and less and less we have the time for anything moral or remotely educational. Dumbing down is all around you. I see it in the children already. I see it everywhere."  
  
"Wow. That's pretty deep."  
  
Bubbles was glad for such a host; his conversation bewildered and intrigued her; she hardly understood. She had never thought so deeply before about life and logic in her cheap, braindead Nickelodeon understanding of the world. Nurtured by 24-hour cable, led to believe that democracy was a French shampoo conditioner, unsure of where Italy was, yet experienced in the pronouncing of "awesome" and who the latest punk band were.  
  
The next discussion involved CRUSTS and why the HELL any bread maker would decide to put them on their bread, because no one likes them anyway, and no one BUBBLES had ever knew had got curly hair by eating them. At several points in the discourse the dragon shouted "CRUMBS!" and the play on words was cause of much amusement, until it wasn't funny anymore.  
  
"Oh," gasped Bubbles, recovering her breath after the dragoon said crumbs again. "I laughed until I stopped."  
  
And so a flirtacious lasting FRIENDSHIP was formed, and many ADVENTURES were had, and nights were spent discussing the finer mechanics of the DREAMWORLD, and how to pronounce nuclear (it's NEW CLEE ER) and very interesting facts about ants, which the Dragoon had established over generations of reading a book called Very Interesting Facts About Ants. Then one sad day, an underpaid hospital trainee spilled hot gruel on Bubbles' face by accident, and she was awoken.  
  
Life was hard those first few days. TEARS seemed to be welling in Bubbles' eyes almost constantly at the continuing FLOOD of memories that enveloped her liberated conciousness, the melancholy howling roar of her father's PANCREAS as he fell backwards and his innards exploded being the most painful of the transcendent mental images. Strengthened and well rested, Bubbles decided that it was probably time to embark upon saving her sisters. However, first she had to escape from the prison hospital FOR VERY UNCONCIOUS PEOPLE that she was now encapulated in. As it happened, she just walked out. After stealing the prison officer's cold, hard drugs. 


	3. Bubble's Amazin' AdventuRe!

A fish finger, an old boot, a car tyre, suddenly the blood rushed ANGRILY from her erections into the capillaries on her face - which had formed some time between conception and birth. The space man unnervingly added that he would NOT be stripping for free much to Bubbles shock and disappointment. She had expected her wallpaper to be fully removed for such a high bounty that she had placed upon it, but Bubbles hadn't endeavoured to consider what she would do if a trator had crossed her path. However, Colonal COMMUNIST's lifeless and rotting corpse drifted by silently, seeming more alive than ever before, some rap-scallion had rather provocatively placed a sail into his dead mouth and was now riding Colonal COMMUNIST. The blood rushed ANGRILY from his left index finger and filled his shaft. Some time passed.  
  
Twenty three seconds later Channel 4 answered their telephone, Bubbles spoke softly, and carefully - knowing that slipping into a wrath, much like she had endevoured upon the now former master of BBC television - Greg Dyke (hehe), would have rendered her complaint WORTHLESS. She stared at the reciever, it's muscley arms, and holes you speak into. Transfixed, Bubbles now realised she had slipped into Hydraphonical Haemotomic Nirvana and her eyes began to drift slowly to sleep.  
  
"Bubbles..." A mysterious yet COMMUNIST voice uttered.  
  
"I'm waiting Bubbles..."  
  
"Waiting for you..."  
  
"Always waiting for you, Bubbles..."  
  
"What are you?" Said Bubbles.  
  
"Guess... hehe.." Answered the voice, mysteriously.  
  
"Um OK... said Bubbles" said Bubbles.  
  
"Go on then" Said Colonal COMMUNIST.  
  
"Colonal COMMUNIST?....." Jibed Bubbles.  
  
Imagine Bubbles' suprise to hear ambient and polyphonic dial tones resonating all around, so muted, yet so clear in Bubbles' ear - and also in the other ear. She snapped out of her daze and walked further into Dragoonfly forest. As she walked she felt her socks were too tight, and remembered she hadn't cut her TOE nails like the now dead professor had ordered. She felt the superfluous nail digging into it's neighbouring toe, causing blood to rush ANGRILY from the flesh wound. Bubbles collapsed in pain, yet was confronted by a monolithic dragonfly anyway.  
  
"BOO-YA!!" continued the Dragoonfly, aptly named Drag Queen, The Deadly Dragoonfly.  
  
"..Aaagh....." murmered Bubbles, rather sarcastically; causing Drag Queen's feelings to be hurt.  
  
"Why doth thy THo mEan?, PREPARE TO BE DIED!!!" said Drag Queen ANGRILY, as the blood rushed obviously.  
  
Bubbles performed her Level 3 EROTIC SPELL on Drag Queen, causing him to sprout an erection of such magnitude he could never have wet dreamed of. "Ah, a nU weapon to be Using against yoU, BUbbles... I am going to Use this hUge e-rection as a weapon and WHIP it against yoU, sexUally! Prepare yoUrself now, for I will Use this weapon to defeat yoU!!!1 Weapon!". Bubbles clutched her new multicoloured Louis Vuitton Clutch bag, ironically named for it had a strap. She felt around in it's interior for some weapon to help her defeat Drag Queen, but could only feel used tampons and condoms she had aquired while in prison. The handbag was so obviously a fake, Louve Dragoon had lectured her on the demise of the fasion houses due to cheap yet legal, in many third world countries, immitations - but was unclear of which side he took - For the fashion houses had played a part in his demise from socialite, to dragoon. She decided to infection his erection with an infection and grabbed a handful of used condoms and tampons. She threw them at Drag Queen and he died of Hepatitis B twelve years later.  
  
"..Oh ANGUS I just don't know why people don't reply to me...." Sobbed Bubbles.  
  
"..."  
  
Meanwhile Bubbles was with her new dragoon fiend, they were deciding which beverage would most benefit them on their travel to help Buttercup and Blossom, should they still be alive. "I do believe that you should drink a Red Bull Bubbles, for it has energetic properties, and contains Sugar, or not sugar." Advised The louve dragoon. Bubbles headed to the scotch egg section, and picked out the biggest plumpest most INDIGESTION inducing scotch egg she could feast her eyes upon. Of course she was in no danger of literally feasting upon it with her eyes because they contain no enzymes nor do eyes contain teeth she pondered to herself, yet this was all pointless - she had in fact heard that the owner of this shop had, due to miseducation upon his export from Pakistan, pronounced Nuclear incorrectly. And a side-adventure was born. "NEW -CLEE -ER - SAY IT!" Bubbles said as she fingered the owners nostril from behind. "Aah! I be giving it up! Be taking what you be wanting kindly?" said the shop keeper. "SAY FUCKING IT!" screached bubbles, her temple pulsating with stress brought upon by yet another mispronounciation - "when will they learn?" Bubbles asked herself in the midst of her attack. She hadn't expected what came next however. Mojo JoJo was in fact the boss of the owner, and when he hears about this nostril fingering attack he will be sure to avenge. But more on that later, when Mojo JoJo kills Bubbles.  
  
"Fucking It!" said the Shop Owner.  
  
Bubbles aquired a basket and while stealing a can of Red Bull, also stole a scotch egg, bottle of lucozade and a packet of cup-a-soup. She hopped onto the Dragoons furry back, and nestled in.  
  
"Let's go back, dragoon. I forgot a kettle, water, and power supply for the cup-a-soup" Said Bubbles, truly distraught.  
  
Imagine Bubbles' suprise to hear ambient polyphonic dial tones resonating all around, so muted, yet so clear in Bubbles' ear - and also in the other ear. She snapped out of her daze and walked away into Dragoonfly land. As she walked she felt her socks were too tight, and remembered she hadn't cut her toe nails like the now dead-professor had ordered. She felt the superfluous nail digging into it's neighbouring toe, causing blood to rush ANGRILY from the immortal wound. Bubbles collapsed in pain, yet was confronted by a monolithic dragoonfly anyway.  
  
"BOO-YA!!" continued the Dragoonfly, aptly named Drag Queen 2, The Deadly Dragoonfly mark 2.  
  
"Aaagh" said Bubbles, rather sarcastically - causing Drag Queen 2's feelings to be hurt.  
  
"Why are you so mean?, PREPARE TO DIE!!!" said Drag Queen 2 ANGRILY, as the blood rushed obviously.  
  
Bubbles awoke, and realised she was safe upon the back of her dragoon, her one and only dragoon. But when would she be able to tell the Louve Dragoon about her secret lust attacks, and her wondering eye. And would Dragoon ever be able to forgive her? He had put up with her for far too long, and contrary to his belief of her sweet lies, he knew that their parting was for the best. She had a wondering eye, and an insatiable libido that even his 12 foot long cum-geyser couldn't satisfy.  
  
In an interesting twist; She then awoke from her LSD dream and realised this chapter was in fact not actually not-not-real. 


	4. Verbal Diahorrea

The next day Bubbles took the Prison Hospital to court for Gross Neglegence on account of not clipping her toenails, which went down well with the right-wing press. "This country is going mad!" screamed a Daily Mail columnist, and a picture showed the timeless and classic moment Bubbles foot was paraded before the jury. There was no doubt it was gross. And so, through a confusion of verbosity in the jury, they decided the Negligence was truly Gross and Bubbles won $10,000,000 compensation, causing the hospital to close and many inmates to die.

At this point I wrote a second paragraph for this chapter.

Some time later, Bubbles was dancing around Townsville's graveyard in a sick publicity stunt on behalf of an Animal Rights campaign. Her fortunes had dwindled, and through gratitious cannabis use she always looked and felt like a person forgetting something. If only she could remember what it was!

It was at this point she danced over the Professor's grave.

"Oh my GOD!" blurted Bubbles, Americanly. "The Professor is dead!"

Looking at a nearby and suspicious stone for a moment she forgot this and all was ok.

It was at this point she began to daub a sick slogan with her spray-paint can to the grave.

"Oh my GOD!" cried Bubbles in anguish. "The professor!"

Vowing revenge at this moment, Bubbles strode home and, as the Animal Rights lobby later claimed in their letter disowning her from their cause, crushed several ants on her journey. But she didn't care. For now, she had a new cause. Unfortunately she forgot it and never remembered ever again. Which was just as well, as Colonel Communist was long dead by that time anyway.

Summer came and went, and in September, with the Autumnal chill approaching, Bubbles' two surviving sisters, Buttercup and Blossom, decided to take a holiday in the Middle East. On hearing this idea Bubbles frowned that frown that makes her the poster lust object of teenage boys everywhere.

"Isn't there like, a war going on there, or something?" Bubbles had queried.

"A war?" laughed Buttercup, scathingly. "I could care less."

"You could care less?"

"Yes."

"Then... you do care?"

"I could care less."

"So you care SLIGHTLY more than you might OTHERWISE care?" questioned Bubbles confusedly.

"No, I don't care. I'm saying I don't care. I could care less; you know?"

"No, I don't know," answered Bubbles. "Your terminlogy is fatally flawed."

"Oh, look at Miss SARCASM here," rapped Blossom. "I smell the opressive heat of a catfight coming on, and the stench disgusts me, excuse my simile."

"Metaphor."

"Whatever. I could care less."

So, with this wedge driven between them, the sisters flew the nest. And the magnifying glass of regret swelled the wound of this rift, the leaden days rolled by, and Grandfather Time chimed sorrow in Bubbles' heart louder every day.

Later on, somewhere in the mountains of Afghanistan, in Drag Queen the Third's lair, ominous music was playing. Something OBVIOUSLY EVIL was a-cookin'!!!1. It was Custard Crumble, a recipe Drag Queen 2 had taught her at birth. EXCEPT DRAG QUEEN THE THIRD had a taste for human flesh, and disliked custard, and found the Crumble part irrelevant, and didn't even cook it. As Drag Queen the Third devoured Buttercup, she groaned with pleasure and crunched the teenage bones.

Bubbles sensed the death, as triplets often do.

She sighed exhaustedly. Not another boring daytrip. But her sister was dead. There was no choice; Bubbles must go to Afghanistan and fight through the Taliban to get to Drag Queen the Third's cave. And wreak vengeance, etc. A whole new chapter awaited writing, and as this happeneed TODAY, this VERY DAY, and is supposed to be set RIGHT NOW, the next chapter is pencil marked "2007" just in case the Author of her life felt incredibly apathetic towards her and her continuing existence.


End file.
